'The Hike' - Prelude - Last Night I Had a Dream
Prelude:
One night—or rather, one morning—some years ago, I had an incredible dream. It was so vivid that I remembered every detail when I woke up, and I want to share it with you. It lasted much longer than just a few seconds, and visually, it resembled those AI-generated videos—something you’ll understand once you hear the whole story. Amidst all the chaos, the dream revealed some interesting insights that I believe are worth acknowledging and discussing.
Before diving into that dream, I had another brief one—almost like an insult or a wake-up call. In it, a guy told me I was too fat to date him. I woke up immediately, but I don’t remember who he was. One day, later in life, when the idea of this book was only an embryo, I descended slowly from the mountain to return to Sofia for my flight to Dortmund—the city I now call home—I reflected on those extra kilos I had gained and the struggle to lose them. That ‘fat dream’ lingered in my mind as the story I am about to tell you, and because of that, I decided to name the problem 'Das Problem'. Let’s be honest, everything sounds heavier in German—just like I feel right now. I laughed at my own joke, alone in the middle of nowhere for fifteen minutes or so, before I came down to sea level and continued with my existence. So yeah, that guy in my dream called me fat, I woke up, and then I went back to sleep.
The next thing I knew, I was on a train with normal tires—oddly bumpy—heading toward the mountains. The mountain in my dream lay beyond Vratsa (a city in Bulgaria), but somehow, it was also Stara Planina (Balkan Mountain), a real place that exists nearby in reality. As dreams do, things morphed to keep the story moving.
This train had several problems while I rode on the back of a flat wagon with some people whose faces I can't recall, yet they felt like friends or acquaintances. When I heard we were about to go through the steep part of the mountain, I turned and saw it: sharp, intimidating, and difficult to traverse—just like Stara Planina from Dobrila to Peak Botev, a hike that could change lives. Every dream I’ve had in the past year ends with a mountain as the final destination. In my dreams, the mountain feels like the right place to be, yet I always struggle to get there, and just after I find my footing and direction, the dream ends and I wake up to reality. But my determination to go there never goes unnoticed in the morning.
At this point, I have dreamt about mountains so often that I can’t ignore the message. I miss the mountains—the feeling of hiking alone or with my friend. Whenever I reach the summit, I feel a rush of life, something I probably lack when I’m stuck in the city. So, I’m pinning this on my list of things to consider. Now, back to the dream—things get crazy right away.
The train with tires broke down in the city, so I jumped off the wagon on the railroad ballast and went to check out a bridge while the train was being fixed. There, under the bridge, I looked down and saw an old couple rafting in a tiny orange boat, flying across the narrow river 30 meters below me. The river barely accommodated their boat, and with all the jagged rocks, disaster was inevitable. Before I could process what was happening, the grandmother was thrown out of the boat, crashing into a rock, while the grandfather's boat flipped—doing a Titanic on him—which, for some reason, looked cartoonish but at the same time dangerous. For a moment, it seemed like the pops would drown, but at the last second, the old lady saved him. Everything happened so fast—both distant and immediate, as dreams tend to be—that I couldn't do anything meaningful to help them. I instinctively reached for my phone to call the police. For a second, I hesitated—was it 911? No, I dialed 112. A woman answered and told me there was no police anymore. That was not the response I was expecting, but before I could dwell on it, I forgot about the couple entirely.
Suddenly, I had a BMX bike with unstable, wobbly handlebars that were moving like they were made from rubber. A thought appeared that a bus would replace the now-vanished train, so I needed to get to the bus station, and a group of men—who looked like stereotypical Bulgarian alcoholics—told me I had ten minutes before departure. With my unreliable bike, I sped off to find the station.
How could this dream possibly last just three seconds, although the scenery changed quicker than in any awake state? As I rode, I saw a woman from a distance, but in typical dream logic, she suddenly appeared right in front of me on an open street, right after the stop sign. I collided with her. No one was hurt, but I apologized at least three times for my slow reaction. She and her boyfriend were surprisingly friendly and understanding, and they went on their way. I continued, ran a red light along with a few cars, and finally reached the bus station—where all the people from the train had gathered. For a moment, there was a wide shot of the scene, like that haunting moment in the movie Society of the Snow right before the airplane took over and then crashed. I decided to leave my bike behind, unlocked. I thought someone could steal it, but my romantic spirit couldn’t find any evidence that I cared about it that much. If it was there when I returned—great. If not, oh well—I don't consider myself to be a materialistic person. You stop attaching to items after you move out from your fourth apartment. And then, I woke up.
After sharing this dream with my friend, I realized it was worth telling. One realization stood out: I need to be closer to the mountains—or better yet, on them—to experience the vitality they bring me. Another realization? I’m fat. Das Problem is real, and now I have to work on both of those.
This morning, we talked about how the brain works—how it assembles such elaborate narratives so quickly. We joked that it’s like a computer loading hundreds of elements just before waking up, creating AI-like sequences that make sense but don’t quite feel real. As I wrote down this dream, I also realized something else: I’m most creative and passionate in the morning. I am a morning person. After the morning, I am no person. So, I need to take advantage of that time when I manage to wake up early.
These realizations led not only to writing this book and sharing my story but also to fuel the journey you’re about to experience with me.
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